


the sky, the stars, her hand in mine

by ariya167



Series: the stars do not hold our destiny: moteé/ellé [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Kiss, Getting Together, Movie: Star Wars: The Phantom Menace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16307297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariya167/pseuds/ariya167
Summary: For them, love is not the heat of passion or a ground-shaking revelation. For them, love is a simple certainty.





	the sky, the stars, her hand in mine

The Naboo sky is dark and dotted with stars, but Ellé can’t imagine falling asleep on a night like this. She is standing guard over the rebel camp with Moteé, hand resting firmly on her elega blaster. 

She risks a quick glance at Moteé. She stands ramrod straight in her handmaiden’s battle robes, tension clear in every line of her body. Ellé understands. They’re not even real handmaidens yet, but after Queen Amidala fled and most of the generals were captured by the Trade Federation, they’re left as what counts as military authority with a camp of innocents to protect. 

“What is it?” Moteé asks suddenly, and Ellé averts her eyes, embarrassed at being caught staring. 

“It’s just . . .” Ellé says, careful not to let her voice raise above a whisper. If there are droids in the trees beyond them, she doesn’t want to let them know they’re here. “This all so strange.”

Moteé’s face softens into a sympathetic smile. “I know. There’s a difference between understanding what your duty is and rising to the test to perform it.” 

Ellé nods, unable to speak around the lump in her throat. She’s been running on adrenaline for the past few days-hide from the Trade Federation, get the Queen to safety, escape with who they can-but the gravity of the situation is sinking in. This isn’t a training session or a drill; it really, truly matters. She’ll do her duty, of course, can’t imagine doing anything otherwise, but it is very likely she will die. 

“Hey,” Moteé says, moving closer. Her hand rests on Ellé’s wrist, concern writ large on her face. “Together, we’ll be alright.”

“Until the end,” Ellé says fiercely, and Moteé nods. She looks brilliant in the moonlight, sharp shadows along her chin and cheekbones and in the curves of her velvet battle robes, and before Ellé can help herself, she says, “Can I kiss you?”

Moteé’s eyes widen, and she curses herself. They’re supposed to be on watch, for goodness sake, and of course, Moteé doesn’t want to kiss her, how presumptuous-

But Moteé is smiling at her. “I thought you’d never ask,” she says, and kisses her. 

The world falls away except for Moteé’s lips on hers, warm and soft and gentle, and their fingers lacing together. Ellé presses forward, seeking to satisfy the blossoming heat in her chest, and Moteé pushes back. They break apart a few moments later, gasping for breath. 

“How long have you wanted to do that?” Moteé asks. 

“Since the day you showed me how to use a blaster rifle,” Ellé confesses, and Moteé laughs gently, resting her hand on Ellé’s cheek. It feels like it had happened so long ago, but it had only been a year since she joined the handmaiden program and met Moteé. The memory still stands strong in her mind-Moteé in her training robes, adjusting Ellé’s form with soft touches. Ellé had always noticed beautiful girls, but sharp, clever Moteé was something else entirely. 

“I remember that,” Moteé says, looking into Ellé’s eyes. “For me, it was when you spent the entire night trying to teach me Huttese.”

Ellé smiles, interlacing her fingers with Moteé’s. It feels like hours has passed, even though it’s probably only been a few minutes, and she tilts her head up to gaze at the stars. Actually, the sky is lightening a little, and she checks her chrono just to make sure. 

“We should start heading back,” she says, holding up the chrono to show Moteé. She nods, and they set off to the camp again, stepping carefully through the traps they’d set up earlier.

“We have pretty bad timing, huh?” Moteé asks as they near the camp, and Ellé shrugs. 

“Maybe,” Ellé says, and grins. “I’m just glad we found each other.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always welcome!


End file.
